Hello, February.

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Despite the fact that the groundhog Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow yesterday morning, we all have reason to celebrate: February is the last month of winter.

Sure, there may be snow storms in March, but everyone knows that by the end of February the bitterest cold has run its course.  No longer does the snow melt during the day and refreeze at night, crystallizing it like asymmetrical piles of rock salt.  No longer does it take my whole commute for my car to warm up.  And no longer does the sun set at 5:30.  (It sets at 6.)

February is a short month, which means even if it’s not the official end of winter, we get to it much quicker.

February is also the month where I begin to exercise more.   I consider myself a runner–albeit a doughy, sluggish one–and in January I am more inclined to stay under my warm covers than I am to put on a t-shirt and shorts and carpe the diem.  It’s very easy to blame my girth on January, but February is a brief, 28-day reminder that Spring is right around the corner, and now is the time to get back up to running four and half to six miles.

January is like the roommate you can’t stand, and instead of fighting him/her, you cease communicating directly and vent all your frustrations to a third party, patiently suffering in silence, waiting for the day when one of you moves out.  February is that other roommate who moves in and is exponentially better if for no other reason than he/she is NOT January.  (By contrast, May and June are those roommates you instanly click with but don’t stay long enough.  But you’re just so grateful that you got to know them.)

February has Valentine’s Day, the only holiday that is either loved or hated.  (Do you know anyone who feels indifferent towards it?)  Either you love it because you have somebody to love and you buy into the whole card/flowers/classy dinner thing (simply because you can!), or you hate it because you have no significant other and you bemoan how Hallmark created the holiday for their own sinister, moneymaking purposes, spending the day bravely and defiantly wearing your disdain on your sleeve.  Either way, chances are you’ll end up watching a chick flick before you call it a night.

President’s Day is the nifty smooshing of Lincoln and Washington’s birthdays into the second Monday of February.  It’s like those people whose birthdays are right around Christmas and only get one present with a “Merry Christmas & Happy Birthday” card attached.  Yeah, it’s kind of lame, but at least it’s better than nothing.

In conclusion: February isn’t my favorite month by a long shot, but it’s filled with promise of better things to come.  And you have to appreciate a cold month that knows not to overstay its welcome.

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Filed under I hate winter

Tags: groundhog day, Hallmark, Humor, January, Life, March, President's Day, running, seasons, spring, Valentine, Valentine's Day, weather, winter